The Outcome
by thebloomcrewof1
Summary: Mere months after the battle at Alcatraz, the X-Men are attempting to get everything together for a new schoolyear, a new team, and a new generation of mutants. But rumors, new villians, battles, and secrets just might get in the way. Pairings ensured!
1. Contemplation & Ruin

Kitty stared at herself in her mirror. So far, she had just gotten finished moving her bedset, toiletries, and her other things out of hero old room and into her new one that she would be sharing with 3 other girls.

It would be different, she had to admit.

This year was her possibly last year there at Xavier's School for the gifted. The only way she would stay there was if she decided to take online college courses, or take private lessons from some of the authorized teachers there.

If she didn't…if she went to a university out in the middle of who-knows-where, became valedictorian, and got an average job at Starbucks, she would be going among people who wouldn't want her there, even if they didn't know it yet.; people who would have no clue she was a mutant, but openly hate mutants, making it all the harder for her.

And something deep down in the pits of her stomach churned as she thought about the years of peace, warmth, and, above all, safety, she had spent here at the institute. Was she even ready for it? Was she ready to face the real world with a tough skin? Would she be prepared to keep walking by on the street while angry and criticizing pedestrians held picket signs with mutant slurs stamped across them? Could she hold her tongue when the subject of mutant freedom and the constant neglection of mutant registration came up in the Political Science course she was planning on taking? Could she dare watch a kid, or teenager, or maybe even the average-joe get circled and mobbed by a group that held pure hatred for him, simply because he had fur on his body, or lime green skin, or orange eyes that held no irises?

Would she, now known as a hero to many of the students of the school, be able to walk away from the scenarios of disaster that were all too real for the everyday mutant?

And what would she do if she were the one accused, beaten, and bruised, if she should be the one hunted down and persecuted like the unsuspecting victims many of them were?

Would she use her hidden powers in an act of self-defense, risking the years of hard-earned work to something less rewarding, and, in a way, even punishing? Or would she let herself become horrendously scarred, paralyzed; would she allow that bullet to pass through her flesh because of the life it saved…even when hers was clearly lost?

Kitty flattened the creases in the green and white striped tank top and looked down at her faded jeans that sported cut and shredded material where it should have covered her knees.

She could take losing to a powerful mutant: Magneto, the Pheonix force that had destroyed nearly everything in her recent appearance, even maybe Logan…yeah, she could handle not being as good as him.

But letting a close-minded human stab a knife through her in the dead of night, just because he thought it would be one less problem for him…could she really let that happen? Where were the lines between doing the right thing, doing the beneficial thing, being a pacifist…and being a push-over? Being…afraid?

And this wasn't the first time Kitty doubted herself, either. She had thought about it deeply. And so many memories came flooding back like the waters that overtook Ms. Grey's body nearly 8 months ago. For one, there was Rogue…or "Marie" as she liked to be called now. Kitty had been the best of friends with Bobby years before Marie had shown up. But then, once Marie came, it was all over between her and Bobby's relationship. She wasn't really sure if it were necessarily her fault…but it felt like it. Of course, some blame had to be put on Marie. Marie thought that Bobby would go after a girl whom he could touch, which made the girl stream doubt and insecurity and distrustfulness into their relationship. Those things alone could crush any type of acquaintance really. And Marie could be fussy and…overbearing.

When Bobby first started dating Marie, he had come to Kitty with all of their problems. He had hoped that she, a good friend who happened to be a female, could help him understand why Marie would get angered by the simple suggestion to wear something different.

But that stopped happening. Marie thought that all of those "sessions" to help Bobby understand women better were something more. And once she had mentioned it to Bobby, he had slowly talked to her about Marie less and less. And then, eventually, he stopped talking to her in general. Kitty knew Marie hadn't directly pointed out her and Bobby's relationship, but she had probably made hints to it or implied it. And Bobby, being the kind-hearted person that he was, began making fewer attempts to contact her.

It was one of the deepest emotional wounds she had ever encountered. Having her friend of 4 years neglect her and go into a complicated relationship with a whining and complaining…bitch…it shook Kitty to think it could even happen, even more that it did.

_What does she have that I don't?_ Kitty thought.

It wasn't always about Marie. And she enjoyed that. Marie had left a few months ago. After the fight they had with the Brotherhood and Phoenix in mid-March, Marie had changed. She had taken the cure, but with her change, she attempted to be someone else. And that someone else was the same person who had left Bobby somewhere near the end of April. Her absence didn't linger like the rest of the others who were gone. Jubilee had been the first to notice that she wasn't at any of her first classes. After Sex Ed class Jubilee had gone in search of the girl and came to an empty room. She had run straight to Storm to tell her of their loss. And then later that evening, Ororo had called the X-Men into her office to inform them of it as well. The responses were different.

Elizabeth Braddock, the new teacher for the rest of the year on account of all the deaths, had taken two of Ororo's would-be classes, so that the weather-controller could take care of her other 3 classes, the Professor's Ethics class, the X-Men, and all the other territory that came along with running a school. Elizabeth didn't know her the way the others thought they did, and she didn't do much to cheer anyone up either. Logan was the worst…probably. As soon as realization dawned on him, he had savagely left the room. Kitty decided she wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. She ran after him, phasing through all the doors he tried to slam in her face. Finally, when they had reached his room, he had screamed in her face about all the things he had concealed for so long; Jean's death, "Chuck's" death, "One-Eye's" death, all the things being put on his plate, Bobby cheating on Marie with her….

That one set the fuse off. She had nothing to do with Dr. Grey's death and especially not the Professor's.

Hell, who was he to complain?! Charles was the only father she had, the only teacher aside from Ororo, who she could take to…the only hero she had ever believed in. And he was gone. Logan had barely spent 2 years with them! How was he to know the comforting hug Charles gave her when she was 12 and got her first "C" on her test? How could he comprehend the crush her young 10-year-old self harbored for Scott Summers, her first official crush? How would he know a damn thing about Dr. Grey either? Kitty didn't know much of Jean, but she was positive she knew twice as much as Logan. She was angry and hurt, yes. So what was wrong with having an old friend cheer her up by taking her ice-skating? She had known Bobby longer, she had been there to comfort _him_ before. So when he had an unspoken desire to have someone give him something as small as a hug, she was supposed to ignore him? To tell him "Hell, no, Bobby…things won't be alright" and leave him abandoned. Heaven knows that's all he felt when he learned of the deaths. Abandonment. Whereas she, on the other hand, felt miserable and disappointed; disappointed to know those heroes who had faced their would-be fates time and time again with the strength of everything twice their size put together…had died. They were human too. Mutants would die, they were human. And even though she had learned that at any early age of this, she had never thought much of death until she had seen it with her own eyes, until she could feel the ripples of destruction it had made, the ruins of determination it had caused.

So, when Logan began preaching to her about she and Bobby without even knowing where she had come from, the pain she felt, she did the one thing anyone else in her situation (even Marie maybe) would do. She slapped him. And she slapped him hard. She admit, the injury it caused hurt, but only faintly as she burned with rage. Her face had turned red in her anger, her lips curling into the darkest scowl she could muster. And then she gave a long tangent of her problems while sobbing the whole way through.

She paused halfway through to wheeze and choke down air in her frantic mission to get him to see reality, to see that he wasn't the only one hurting. She had hollered so loud Ororo had burst through the locked door, knocking it down in the process, thinking someone was dying. Kitty had stopped yelling long enough to see Ororo's gorgeous eyes turn into some not-so-gorgeous slits. She had tried to strangle her sobs, in act to seem strong to Storm, to appear more like the warrior she proved herself to be that day in mid-March. But she couldn't. She just sobbed even more, tears trickling down her face so hard it scared her. Ororo had asked her to leave then, but, childishly, she stayed. It was then when the wrath of the goddess was unleashed. It was then that she realized that Storm had a temper that could easily compete with Logan's…or anyone's for that matter.

Storm did her business without any regard, doing what had needed to be done for a good long amount of time now. Storm put Logan in his place.

There was an entanglement of "I'm leaving"'s and "where?"'s and "I hate you"'s. Kitty had never seen their teacher get completely furious over anything before, and, if she had, she had a talent of not showing it. But Kitty had always known that. And at one point, she even thought she saw the glossy sheen of tears in Storm's eyes. But just as soon as they had appeared, they left. Logan didn't even seem to care. He just continued packing through their argument as if this was everyday stuff. What scared her was that it looked like it_ was_ everyday stuff.

Even though she couldn't recall exactly what was said through the middle, she knew exactly what had ended it. Storm had looked him dead in the eye as he grabbed his duffel bag and flung it over his shoulders and said, "So that its, huh? Jean and Marie were the only thing keeping you here? Well fine. I'm sorry we're not good enough for you to stay…I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you to stay. But know one thing, Logan. Those kids, whether they admit it or not, think of you as they're hero. Everyone needs a hero, someone to believe in. For awhile…I thought that…well, that's fine. Its normal of you to leave without caring of all of the others who rip out strand after strand of their hair, wondering if you've gotten injured or ambushed; the ones who ate lunch outside everyday to be the first to see if you'd come back…all because you couldn't pick up a damn phone and say where you went. Maybe that's why Marie left, Logan. Maybe because she couldn't keep waiting and waiting for someone who couldn't take a little time out of their day to do something nice. So, you know what, Logan? If you want to go…go. But don't ever, _ever_ step foot on those front doorsteps again or I will kick you off of them personally."

Then, she challenged him with her eyes, daring and wanting him to answer her right then. He brushed past her without a sound though, holding her gaze till he reached the door. Then he left. Just like that. Her memory had absorbed every word…and the look of terror and anger and hatred and heartbrokenness that had overtaken her teacher. Then Storm left. Kitty had phased through the door to see the rest, half-expecting her to go after him, to say sorry and beg for him to be there, just for a few more days. But Storm was a proud woman. And when she said something, she meant it; and when she ordered something of someone, she meant business. Kitty had always wondered why she had put up with it for so long. She had begun to wonder if Ms. Munroe realized the doormat she was becoming for Logan. But that day made her realize Storm was all too aware. And she was too proud to beg. So she went in the complete opposite direction of Logan and went up to her loft. And for the rest of the day, the loft was silent. So was the garage. She found out the day after that. The next day she found Logan sitting on Scott's bike, duffle bag strapped securely, looking ready to go, his eyes squinted into a look of pure anger and resentment, but she knew the cogs and wheels in his head were turning full force. He was trying to pick apart every word Storm had said to him. He gave her a look that could kill, but she shrugged it off. She wasn't afraid of him. He was a coward. She got into a blue corvette, parked snugly between the other cars Charles had purchased before his death, and was off to get the eggs and 3 packs of butter Storm had required of her.

Logan had looked after her while she left, she could feel his powerful gaze. But she didn't mind.

When she returned an hour later (after getting stuck in traffic), he was in the same spot. She came up to him, standing right in front of him.

"Are you okay?" she had asked, nearly mumbled. It didn't matter really. He had heard her and would've heard her.

He sighed. "Yeah" was his gruff response.

"It tears her up, you know. I think she thinks you left. That's why she sent me out here to get groceries…she couldn't stand to see the bike gone, to look herself, you know?"

"I know"

"She's got a lot on her plate"

"I know"

Kitty just nodded and left after that. She didn't know what else to say about the situation. She didn't feel she needed to say sorry, and obviously, he felt the same.

Looking back on it all, Kitty began to think she had needed to say sorry. But she still hadn't. And neither had he. And, in a way, they became closer. He tended to give her more warnings in the danger room and stuff…he had even smiled at her once. So maybe Marie leaving was a good thing in a way. She had gained a friend in Logan, and Bobby and she were rebuilding their friendship. And Marie wasn't there to ruin that…


	2. Boys Are Crazy

Authors Note: Thanks to everyone who replied and was so nice and such. This is my first time writing on here (which is a warning, not an excuse haha). I think having Kitty as the center character of the first chapter, kind of gave a "fresh" feeling to it all, know what I mean? But…enough with the chit-chat…and the one-way roads and one-character POVs. From now on, I'll be multi-tasking with the story! :D sooo lets begin, shall we?

_**Chapter 2**_

_**Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan**_

_**Black Sun Orphanage**_

"Whooooaa I never meant to brag! But I got him where I want him now! Whooooaa it was never my intention to brag, to steal it all away from you now!" Layla bopped her head to the beat of her favorite song on her favorite c.d, folding a black tank top before stuffing it into her suitcase.

"Can we please turn to Rihanna!" Shelby whined at her friend who enjoyed the continuous mess of vocals, screams, and snare drums that encircled the room.

"Nope. My turn to pick the c.d. Sucks for you" Layla responded before dancing over to her near-empty portion of the closet in one of the many rooms of the orphanage. She found her two belts entrapped in one another on a hanger and untangled her black belt with metal studs from her hot pink belt with a skull that had a heart for one of its eyes and shoved them both next to the black tank top.

Shelby groaned, flipping onto her back and kicking the headboard in a playful temper tantrum. "You suck! And so does the crappy music you listen to" she complained, taking her year-old Seventeen magazine and placing it atop her head.

"Mhhmm" Layla simply answered, "You know you'll miss me and my crappy music once I blow this popsicle stand!"

"Maybe…But I don't miss you now."

Layla dove across her bed for the remote on the pillow and shut the stereo off. She turned around and rolled her eyes at Shelby before taking out her c.d. with an indignant "Hmph!" and placing it into her c.d. case.

"So where are you heading off to anyways?"

"Boarding school" Layla said monotonously, putting her c.d. case into her small Jansport backpack her mom had purchased for her first year of 2nd grade all those years ago. She folded her headphones with a nearly broken wire and her silver c.d. player next to it.

"You told me that already…what kind of boarding school? Where's it at? Is it in London? Upper East Side? Please don't tell me, you're ditching us for some uppity-uppity snobs…"

"That's probably only on Gossip Girl, Shel" Layla replied, taking her pair of baggy black Bermuda shorts and black leggings with lime green stripes ("_Or maybe they're lime green with black stripes" Layla thought)_ and putting them in the corner of her bag, next to the belts.

"So you're going to the Upper East Side?!"

"No, I'm just mocking how the garbage you watch so easily affects you"

"You're a Degrassi kinda person, aren't you?"

Layla smirked at Shelby's accusation, taking 12 pairs of socks and messily bundling them into a netted compartment at the roof of her bag.

"It's in…Louisiana" she lied. _"Westchester" _she thought to herself.

"Aren't they still recovering from Katrina?"

"No," Layla said after a pause, considering Shelby's question, "I think they're okay now"

"That's good."

"Yeah."

"Did you just get a scholarship or something?"

"You could say that" Layla murmured. "_If being a freak that's known as the bottom of society worldwide is your idea of a scholarship, then yeah."_

"But it wouldn't be the truth, would it?" Shelby accused. She had long ago taken the magazine from her face and was now sitting at the edge of her bed in a criss-cross-applesauce position.

"Look, Shelby…I don't want to talk about it right now. Okay? It's just…a school."

"…Okay"

Layla sighed. She hated lying to people she cared about. Lying was fine with strangers, she had decided years earlier, because strangers could get you into trouble. But lying to people who you cared about and who cared about you…that was wrong. It was…wrong. She couldn't really think of any other word to describe it. It was just that undeniably strong feeling in the pit of your stomach that churned and churned until it sickened you to the core. In her book, that feeling was called "wrong".

"So when am I going to see you again?" Shelby treaded onto new territory carefully. This wasn't really talking about Layla's new school, right?

"Isoon, you know? I'll see you soon, Shelby. We're besties, okay? No one could ever destroy that…but I'll give you the address once I get there. And you can mail me. And you can tell me all about your new family 'cause I know you'll get adopted soon."

"I guess" Shelby's voice mildly quavered.

…_she's gonna cry. _

Layla turned around to see tears slithering down Shelby's cheek, fingers tapping against her face, looking absent-mindedly at Layla's suitcase.

Layla walked over to her and enfolded her in the biggest hug she could give. Shelby didn't respond till a minute later, sobbing into her best friend's shoulder and mumbling gurgled words only Layla could understand. Because that's how best friends were. They understood each other.

"_For the most part" _Layla decided.

Because that's all Shelby could understand. She couldn't understand the overgrown hatred building inside for political figures in the world, most of them lecturing about the dangers and horrors of mutants, never knowing they were really talking about her. Never knowing they were talking about a 14 year-old, orphaned girl. And, as long as Layla breathed, she'd make sure Shelby didn't know either.

"_No one in my old life will know."_

_**Vermont Mountains  
Middle of Nowhere**_

Sooraya was starting to grow impatient with her "driver". They had been riding around for hours in an unfamiliar place where the trees _were_ beginning to look more and more familiar. She quietly decided they had been here at least twice before. She was going practically insane and running out of options. Surely they had caught on to the fact that _she _had caught on.

"So…why don't we stop to get something to eat, eh?"

Sooraya looked up to see a treacherous, headstrong man that she was unlucky enough to be forced to catch a ride with. She knew what he was trying to do. And, judging by the smile on his ugly, scrawny partner-in-crime that was slumped in the passenger seat, he knew too.

This was the first time she had ever feared these men before, the first time she had ever fully regretted taking a ride from a stranger. But there wasn't anywhere she could run now. They were out in the mountains of Vermont. No one was around. She could run, yes, but for how long? The pines and oaks were dizzy maze of bewilderment. There were plenty of places to hide, no places to run off to. She didn't want to play hide and seek with these random people who were slowly attempting to trap her. What would become of her? She had heard of what happened when girls played in the forests and didn't come back, when people hitchhiked with other people. But she had foolishly decided to ignore that. And now she was beginning to think, that, in two weeks, her body and identity would show up on CNN. It was times like these she regretted straying away from her homeland in Afghanistan, days like these when she wished she would have begged the slave traders to take her with her mother, if only to be with someone she knew. It was times like these she could….

"_But I won't…" she thought "Not unless…I have to. And I won't have to. Ever. I can't even control it."_

"I was talking to you, girl" the man said impersonally with a hint of anger in his tone. Sooraya frowned and played with the edge of her niqab, looking down at her left knee that was nicely folded across her right, both hidden by her abaya. This was the 4th time in the last 1 and ½ hours he had asked that question.

"No. I ate before I came, Sir" she replied politely, looking out the window, not daring to meet his eyes.

"Nonsense! You must be hungry" answered the man in the passenger seat.

"No, I am fine" Sooraya said again.

"I think we should. We wouldn't want you to starve."

But Sooraya wasn't stupid. There wasn't a food store or even a gas station in sight. Where could she, or even them for that matter, eat at? Out of the grimy trunk of his truck?

"_That's not going to happen" she reassured herself shakily. _Somehow the thought of eating _their_ food was scarier than slowly starving in the heat of their unconditioned car…or out in the forest…

"_Stop thinking about it, Sooraya. It won't happen. They are nice men. They offered to help you. Pushy though they may be, they will not harm you. They won't harm you. They won't harm you. They wouldn't dare harm you. They wouldn't ha"_

Sooraya's stomach did a backflip as the driver's previously still foot pressed down on the opposite pedal; the truck began to halt to a stop. She knew they could sense her nervousness. It was practically what had fueled them for these past hours.

She kept her mouth closed once the car stopped. And it was like that for just a few seconds too. Complete silence, time freezing. Nothing but the emerald grass that poked out from the ground beneath them. Nothing but the cloudy dirt that wrapped itself around the car from the engine pushing the dusty road up into the air, particle by particle, speck by speck. Nothing but the teasing whispers of the wind outside, the very wind that seemed to be watching them and looking onto them with pity in its eyes. Nothing but the snap of a red, rickety Toyota truck getting three of its doors wrenched open in unison…nothing put the padded steps of a fearful teenage girl who had adjusted her niqab and begun to run away in the direction of the setting sun that peeked behind the trees.

_**Westchester, New York  
Xavier's Institute for the Gifted**_

Kitty stood out in the hallway, waiting for a reply to the knock she had just given on the hollow door of Warren Worthington III. Ororo had asked her to check up on him a few minutes ago, as he had been acting strange earlier that day. Kitty couldn't exactly put her finger on it, but she knew exactly what Ororo was talking about. She had a way of subconsciously observing things others passed as normal. Apparently, Ororo did too. "Warren!" she called, "You in there?! Warren?!"

No reply. Kitty sighed and was about to turn on her heels when the door opened with a loud **SWOOSH!!**

Warren stood, nearly as tall as the door hinge, a t-shirt and baggy sweatpants hanging limply from his muscular form.

"Oh…hey" he said calmly, "I was out flying. Sorry. How long have you been out here?"

"A few minutes."

"Oh."

And just like that the conversation that was supposed to have a purpose turned into something incredibly awkward.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking down at her green flip-flops. Perfect toenails peeked out behind the frays at the end of her jeans.

"Yeah," he said, just as casually as before, but Kitty noticed his muscles has tensed a little bit, his pale pink lips going into an emotionless line.

Kitty knew that face anywhere. Bobby had even given it to her a few times.

It was that "Girls are crazy…" look. And it was the most defensive look she had ever been shot.

"_Oh no" Kitty thought, "I am not gonna be the one looking stupid here."_

"Storm wanted to know," she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Oh" was his short reply. Kitty hated when people replied in short answers. All of this "Oh" business irritated the snot out of her. The brunette tried to restrain from rolling her chocolate brown eyes.

"Okay" she replied, attempting to give him a taste of his own medicine. She shrugged her shoulders carelessly before walking away with a look of pure annoyance on her face.

"_Boys are crazy…" she thought._

Authors Note: Okee-dokee…that's my chapter. Hope ya like! Please review because it would mean a lot. Thanks a bunch!


	3. Remorse & Lethal Weapons

_**Chapter 3**_

_**Westchester, New York**_

_**Xavier's Institute for the Gifted**_

Warren walked down the long corridors of Xavier's School for the Gifted. His grey-blue eyes darted across all the hallways, searching for the one that had the mural of George Washington in the middle of a battle. But that was easier said than done. The mansion was full of murals of historically important people. In fact, the mansion was filled with historical everything. Period.

He had remembered Storm once telling him that the Professor tried his best to use antiques for decorations. Jade vases, shipped to him and only him, straight from Bei-Jing. Statues crafted from porcelain and sea glass, this unique style of artwork only able to be found on the shores of Sicily. She had said that Charles never wanted to be showy, but rather classy. "And most of them were gifts" she had mentioned. To that he had no doubt. Professor definitely seemed to be the man who had had friends all over the world. The search was beginning to get outrageously complicated. He had never particularly paid attention in his childhood history classes. It seemed to him that anyone before the 1900s wore a curly, "powdered" wig on their head.

Finally, he came across a picture of a confident man with a colonial outfit, riding on a large, powerful horse. This had to be the one.

"_If it isn't…" he thought, "So help me I will shoot myself."_

He turned the left corner and counted 9 doors down until her was standing at the entrance of Storm's office.

It was nerve-wracking for a moment. He spent a few seconds wondering (in that pointless way people do) about exactly what she would say.

Twisting the doorknob, he peeked inside to see Storm sitting at her desk, one leg crossed over the other, speaking into the phone in her "professional" tone.

"_But then again, she kind of always sounds professional, so…"_

Storm held up her index finger in a "wait one moment" position before kindly responding to the person on the phone, "I assure you, Mrs. Richards, he will have the greatest education he can possibly have here. If it makes you feel more comfortable, you can stop by later on this week to observe the environment."

Pause.

"Mhm."

Pause.

"Mhm. Mhm. That sounds excellent. Okay."

Pause.

"Wonderful. I'll have your rooms ready. I look forward to seeing where Franklin gets his intellect from."

Pause.

"Bye."

She hung up the phone with a sigh and a look of exasperation on her face.

"Parents?" Warren guessed, already knowing the answer.

"Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Richards, to be exact."

Warren didn't know the people, but the names sounded familiar. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks the millisecond Storm opened her mouth to reply.

"Reed and Susan. Of the "Fantastic Four"? They have a son named Franklin. He's intelligent, but I believe his parents are rather picky about his education."

"Yeah, well…it is their kid," Warren replied, trying not to sound too much like he was on the Richards' side.

"Oh! I understand _that_ completely…it's just…I would think that Reed would be comfortable with the idea. He and I were good friends back in high school. He knows I wouldn't endanger his Franklin…or his IQ."

"Which I'm sure is extremely high, considering his parents aaaarrrreee…."

"Mechanical, aerospace, and electrical engineers who are brilliant at all levels of physics, chemistry, and biology."

"Wow."

"That's just his dad"

"And 'Wow' again."

Storm let out a chuckle before regaining her composure, "But that's not why I called you here"

"Oh."

"_I swear that's his favorite word…" Storm thought amusedly._

"I called you here because I wanted to talk to you about…broadening your horizons"

"Oh."

"I was wondering what you thought about having a teaching position here at the Institute."

After the 10th word in her sentence, Warren froze. He hated the mere thought of teaching. Watching over other people's hyperactive children with superhuman abilities was not his idea of an even near-decent way to spend one's 6 hours of a day.

Warren hated talking in front of others for the most part. His dad had shielded him from the public as much as he could as a child. Learning to bring up an interesting topic with a person, much less lecture them made Warren's wings twitch.

Storm's face fell a little and was replaced with one of serene understanding. "Its okay if you don't want to…I just thought I might ask."

Warren wanted to kick himself. Really, really hard. Storm hadn't asked much of him in these past few months he had been here. Nothing really besides babysitting once or twice. And that was just it. It was only once or twice. He was staying her for free, room and board and all. The least he could do was

**Bring Bring Bring! Bring Bring Bring! Bri**

Storm picked up her phone once more and her face brightened after a few seconds of talking. She covered the phone with her left hand and whispered up to Warren, "Just…think about, okay?"

He smiled and nodded before walking out, hearing tidbits of Storm's current conversation right before the thick door closed, "Its's okay, Reed. It's okay! It's okay!"

_**1435 Blackwood Lane**_

_**Roanoke, Virginia**_

Tabitha Smith locked her door as she heard the heated yelling of her father and older brother, Maxwell. She could imagine Maxwell's face contorting in a look of pure rage and her father's jagged fingers uncurling from their balled fists and pointing at her brother with words of accusation on his lips.

She hated it there. And that's why she planned on leaving.

It was ironic, though. Maxwell had always said to her "You're just like mom, Tabby. I swear, one-o these days, it'll get you killed, kid. You know that? You aren't getting yourself anywhere but to hell"

And even though it was far from a complement, it made her warm, and her chest swell with pride, and full lips part to show her perfect teeth. Because it was amazing to think about her mom, and it was even better to be related to her in more ways than one. And hearing it from her brother's lips, and hearing him happy in that time so long and far ago made her smile even brighter.

However, her smile was replaced with a grimace, as she heard a hand smack against a table…or was that a face. It was hard to tell. Her door was thick.

"_Thick and jammed," Tabitha thought._

"Don't you talk to me that way!" she heard her father demand. She could picture the vein in his temple pulsating in her fury. It was easy to imagine all of this, but too hard to think of it any other way.

After her mom left when she was 7, life had been a one-way ticket to misery. Her mom had been a spontaneous woman. Creative and lovable just as much as any other person Tabitha had ever met. She had flawless creamy skin with golden threads of wavy hair that was almost always into a braided bun. But when it was let down, it was gorgeous.

So inspired and in admiration of her mother was Tabitha, she had made the decision when she was 13 to dye her hair that color. It was the day after she had found out she was a mutant. It was the day she told her father she was "different". It was the day he beat her so, so badly, both verbally and physically. Pinning her to the ground, he had slapped her and scratched her and kicked her. All the while saying, "You'll never be her! You'll never be your mother! You're not Molly!"

Had it not been for her brother coming home from boot camp that day, she thought she might have died. The discreet smell of Maxwell's smoke diffused itself across the room, making her father look up. He had gotten away from Tabitha then, leaving the room without a word, but unlatching his belt from his long khaki pants. Tabitha wasn't sure if it was a threat or a warning, so she bit her lip to keep from crying and scampered into her upstairs room and locked the door. It was the very first day she had locked the door.

And later Maxwell had come by and had unlocked it so easily. She gazed up at him with curious and angry eyes. But she was wanted to thank him. He hadn't even said anything to comfort her, she remembered. His hazel eyes held little remorse and his jaw turned stiff as she glared at the cut her teeth had made from her attempt to hold back her tears. Blood dripped down on the back of her hand and she had kept sniffling to fill in the silence. But his eyes barely held remorse.

"So he beat you too" he had said. It was more of a statement than a question. The slices on her skin from her father nails, and the bruises on her face and arms were testimony to the cruelty she had underwent. But his eyes still held a small portion of remorse. She nodded.

"Good. You needed it."

He had walked away after that. And Tabitha had been disgusted to the core to think she was actually about to thank him.

But that word "too" had gotten to her. And she noticed the bruises on his skin and face. When she was younger, she thought it was from boot camp…but she knew better now. Her dad had done them. And it made her wonder if that was why her mom had left.

So she had died her hair. In remembrance of having her mother being there. That maybe, despite her ungraceful and dishonorable new "gift", perhaps she could be the woman she wanted to be most. And besides, she didn't want the dark brown hair she had inherited from her father. She wanted nothing to do with her dad.

The fighting had stopped now, and that had awakened her from her ponderings. She realized someone had slammed the garage door. She presumed it was her father. He always went into the garage to fix the imaginary problems her thought were on his motorcycle.

Tabitha straightened her legs out to prepare herself to walk downstairs. She didn't feel like doing it, but she knew if she did, it would lead to something different; that if she did, all the things she went through would never happen again. She wanted that, she craved it…because nothing after those years were different. Her brother still smoked and her dad was still abusive to both of them. Tabitha didn't understand why Maxwell put up with it. She unlocked the door hesitantly before swinging it open quickly. Her footsteps were cushioned by the carpeted stairs as she descended from the second floor of their house. Maxwell slumped against the table, his back hunched and his pale face had a red hand mark splotched across it. On his skin, it might as well have been red ink. It seemed that way.

They stood there in silence for a while. Neither knowing what to say or why they would say it.

Tabitha felt sorry for him, but not much. She held little remorse.

"I see he got you too…Good" she remarked coldly. The glare he shot her could kill, but she merely twirled her blonde hair around her pointer finger. "You deserved it."

"Demonchild" he replied. His face held resentment with a tinge of relief. He didn't look upset at her…but he looked upset.

"_At dad" she reminded herself, "At dad…just dad"_

And it was something she always had to remind herself. Because she couldn't stand her brother getting angry at her. She didn't want to disappoint him, she never had wanted to, even as a child.

"So I need you to take me somewhere…" she began, leaning against the railing of their home's staircase.

"You can drive," he remarked, standing up from his slouched position near the glass table to walk over to the television and grab the remote off of the couch.

"With no license" she reminded him, growing impatient.

"Then go get one, Tabs"

"I'd rather gouge my eye out with a fork and feed it to an ogre" she answered, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, go do it…because I'm not driving you"

"Asshole" she murmured, coming over to the couch where he now sat and kicking the glass table out of anger.

How was she supposed to get to the school now?

"You should treat people nicer if you want them to do shit for you" Maxwell said flicking the t.v. on and turning to ESPN.

Tabitha panicked. She hated the "man" channel. A few minutes of it and Maxwell wasn't driving her _anywhere_.

"If you don't drive me, I'll make the t.v. explode"

"Do it, bitch. See what happens."

"You suck! Just drive me!" Tabitha whined. She didn't feel 16 when she said it, she felt irritated. Why couldn't Maxwell get off his lazy ass and do something productive for once. If he could drive her insane about her failure, she could about his.

"Got a job yet?" she asked, the heel of her shoes scratching against the table, bending the edges of a magazine that had helplessly been crushed beneath her foot while it stood its ground on the table.

He grunted in response.

"Answer me" she said, her voice growing a tone louder in her annoyance.

"Go away" he begged, sliding his strong hands down his handsome face.

She knew that habit…and she was glad to see it. It meant she was wearing him down.

"Please… PLEASE. Maxwell, come on."

He sighed, "Where do you even want to go so damn badly anyhow?"

"Nowhere."

"It better not be the movie theater. I don't play that shit anymore," he began before mocking her voice in a girly tone, " 'Maxwell, will you take me to the movies. Please! That's all! I promise' then 'Maxwell, I need, like, 8 bucks for the movies…come on…please…' and then 'Plus money for popcorn! You need popcorn for a movie! Maaaaxweeelll! Pleeeease. Just some. Like, a few more dollars.'"

"You're stupid!" she replied, not being able to control her laughter.

"Mhmm" he hummed in a knowing voice, "Tell the truth, Tabs. Am I taking you to the movies?"

"So you're taking me now?" she interjected, before he could go further.

"I guess" he said, his voice cracking in hesitation.

"Good!" she screeched, hopping off the couch, but not screaming too loud. She didn't want her dad to hear. "Just lemme go get my duffle"

Then she realized what she had just said.

She wanted to kick herself.

"Duffle?"

"Yeah," she tried to play it off. But she knew he would ask.

"Where?"

"Grandma's" she answered in the calmest voice she could.

He was quiet for a while, no doubt mulling it over in his head. "Okay" he finally answered, "But you do realize that's 2 hours away?"

"Mhm" she replied climbing up the stairs slowly, not wanting to answer his questions, yet his voice making her move slower.

"You got gas money?" he asked expectantly, a twinkle in his eye.

"I wouldn't have to have any if you got yourself a job" she said.

He rolled his eyes, before piercing his gaze onto whatever few more minutes of whatever random game he could catch.

She noticed this was her cue to officially leave and she ran upstairs to grab her bag.

And that was that.

_**Westchester, New York**_

_**Xavier's Institute for the Gifted**_

Theresa Cassidy inwardly groaned as she took a look at who she'd be rooming with for the next year. Amara Aquilla and Alani Ryan. Both had made the X-Men training squad. Which, was fine for Alani, but Amara would never let her live it down. Theresa had tried out over the summer. It was a course that prepared you to become an X-Man, but only 5 slots would be open for graduates. And those 5 graduates would go under extensive training until they were completely ready for the battlefield. There were only 2 graduates that past year who had actually passed, 3 spots still open for advanced fighters who might try out the upcoming year. Jubilee and Josh Foley were the two. And the three who would try out would either join those two, or, if they were good enough, go into the first training class where Alani and Amara were.

"_Its not fair," Theresa seethed, "I've known Storm longer than any student here my age. And yet, Amara and Alani get in. But I don't. That's so screwed up!"_

Theresa hadn't even paid attention to her face's change, but Hank had. He was the one who had shown her the list, after all, seeking her opinion. Storm was against it, he knew. She didn't want the students to know in advance because it seemed whenever they did, they tried to wriggle out of it someway because "She stole my boyfriend last year" or "He's an asshole! I don't wanna room with him! Miss Munroe, Mr. McCoy, that's bull right there!"

But he had foolishly considered otherwise, which he now decided he shouldn't have.

"Theresa?" the furry, blue mutant asked, eyeing her with suspicion. He knew she had taken it hard when she didn't make the training class. Storm had said that's why she had roomed her with Amara and Alani; so that she could either come to terms with her jealousy or learn from their techniques so she could make the first training class next year.

He had voiced his disapproval of that because he knew how Theresa could be, but she had replied she had known too…and he knew, deep down, she was right. Theresa would eventually have to learn or get over it.

"Oh. That's cool." The red-head replied half-heartedly. He sighed, not wanting to push the conversation further, but knowing he might have to.

"Iis this okay?"

"What?"

"The rooming. Is it okay?"

"Its fine, yeah" her voice was smooth, but her eyes said different as they skimmed the paper once more with that "This must be a mistake!" look in it.

He sighed, "Okay then."

Her hands set the paper in his before she said, "See ya later, Mr. McCoy" , and strolled away in a seemingly serene manner.

Hank looked down at the paper again. What should have been a list of names looked like a wrestling match lineup. Already, the schoolyear looked as though it should be registered as a lethal weapon.


	4. The One with A Short Path

_**Chapter 4**_

_**Westchester, New York  
Xavier's Institute for the Gifted**_

"Can you believe it?"

"Believe what?"

"Only one more week until school starts…"

Angel Salvadore turned her head to the left to crack open an eye and stare at her best friend. Noriko Ashida's bright blue hair was tied up into two buns atop her head, a few wisps tickling her eyelashes which were also blue. She blinked her emerald green eyes that were an obvious contrast to her other facial features, awaiting Angel's answer.

"You've just ruined my day" Angel replied seriously. Noriko rolled over on her side to face her, laughing at her friend.

"I'm actually…excited."

"Ooooh, why so? Planning on kissing a certain someone?" Angel joked, shuffling a little in her bed. Her movement caused the twin-sized contraption to eject a noise as the headboard hit the wall.

"I told you already…I don't like Zach Walters."

"Liar. The evidence is there!"

"Yeah…made up in your disproportionate head…"

"Loser!" Angel shouted, scooting up from her bright yellow pillow to snatch it from beneath herself and throw it at Noriko.

Noriko dodged it easily before twisting around, grabbing it, and sending it hurtling right back to Angel. The plush flopped across the other girl's face before falling to the floor.

"Darn you and your training classes…that's like cheating"

"Is not."

"Yes too"

"You just weren't prepared for my mad skills" Noriko joked, giggling hysterically. Her toes curled before she scrunched her legs up to her body as she attempted to generate heat between herself and the covers and she eyed Angel.

"Oh sure," Angel said sarcastically, "Beware Noriko Ashida! She's pure badass, I say…a madskillsman"

They laughed at their antics and jokes, all the while barely meeting each other's glances, staring at the plain white ceiling.

"Can you believe it?" Noriko whispered, breaking the silence.

"I thought we went over this" Angel giggled.

"No, not that," Noriko interrupted, "I mean…think about it…we're sophomores."

"We're growing up…that's scary."

"What do you think I'll be like when I grow up?" Noriko wondered aloud, her voice growing solemn.

Angel hushed for a while, contemplating her reply. "I think you'll be what you want to be"

"That's sure as hell not a good answer," Noriko pouted, kicking the foot of her bed in her annoyance.

"I don't know!" Angel gave an exasperated sigh, "Whatever you set your mind to"

"You sound like a godawful Hallmark card."

"You asked."

After another silence, Angel finally spoke.

"I think you'll be a secret agent who specializes in medical crap"

"Now, that's an honest answer, though random it may be."

This caused another fit of laughter.

"What do you think I'll be?" Angel spoke, her voice sounding not near as grave as Noriko's had minutes before.

"Some business woman…with a suit."

"Well, _that _narrows it down."

"Now you know how I felt"

"Stop whining and answer the question."

It didn't take Noriko as long, however, to come up with a different answer. "I think you'll be a serious adult. You know, like a determined reporter who always wants the story and never stops to get it."

"Oh…do you think I'll be a stick-up-the-ass?"

"No. Not really, I guess."

"You _guess_?"

"It all depends" Noriko responded, "I heard Mr. Bishop say once that 'Life hardens people'"

"Who sounds like a godawful Hallmark card now" Angel murmured.

"I'm being for real…maybe…if we both become X-Men...you know…we'll see people die right in front of us and shit like that. That'll make us more serious about living."

"I am serious about living…"

"Just barely"

Angel chuckled to herself before turning over completely to face Noriko. Noriko's skin glowed as the moon hit it and her stray stands of hair looked like a dancing blue fire.

"But we'll always be tight"

"Of course" Noriko answered. She didn't look Angel in the eye, but that made Angel all the more confident. It meant that Noriko didn't have to look grave, she didn't have to be serious, because she already knew the answer. It was practically the laws of physics.

"Its practically the law of physics," Noriko said, "It's a fact. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and you and I will always be tight"

"Good. As long as that's that, I wouldn't mind being a stick-up-the-ass"

There was another silence that was only made calm by the light chill coming in from the windows, despite the fact that the air conditioning unit was humming its song and its breath spread across the room playfully.

"You know, speaking of which, I heard Mr. Logan call Miss Munroe a stick-up-the-ass once…he tried to cover it by coughing and changing the subject. I just kept staring at him."

That only caused another fit of giggles.

_**Beijing, China  
Worthington Lab Headquarters 2.0**_

"But it can heal her, right?"

"Mr. Pahtenson, I'm afraid what you're asking of me is somewhat impossible from both a medical and scientific point of view. We can't necessarily **heal** anyone"

"Everything here is just a stall, sir" Dr. Morris Hunter cut in with an exasperated sigh. Brenda Peters gave her assistant a look that could kill and turned back around to face their most recent patient's parent.

"That's not the answer I'm looking for. My daughter is in great pain at times. This"

"At_ times_." Brenda interrupted "At least it's not a chronic pain like some of them. I'm not an expert on all of this, despite my years of studying. After the attack a few months ago at Alcatraz"

"I don't care about that! Mutation is a **DISEASE!**" the man shouted at both of them, clenching his fingers into a fist. His mouth began trembling; fury was scribbled across his face. "I didn't fly my family here all the way from Washington for you to tell me it isn't going to work. It can work! It has to! Every disease has a cure. It's just a matter of you lazy fools getting off your ass and finding it!"

Morris looked fed up and unlatched his stethoscope from around his neck. His hand mercilessly squeezed on the utensil, trying to find a way to release his anger against this man that had been pent up for the last few hours now. Lucas Pahtenson was a determined man. Determined and irritating.

He thought that simply because his daughter was a mutant that he could come in here and order them around. From what Morris could tell, Brenda had been far too nice when inviting him there. They had agreed to meet him in the Worthington Labs in China because it was easier for Brenda. After her professor, Cecelia Reyes, had died during the battle at Alcatraz that past April, Brenda had been working overtime to get things back in order. Now that Alcatraz's Worthington Labs was gone, the formula had to be recreated. The Cure had been so valuable to Worthington Labs, that its founder, Warren Worthington II, had been very adamant about having only 2 people know the exact methods it would take to create it, so it wouldn't get in the wrong hands. Those two people he had chosen were Dr. Cecelia Reyes and Dr. Leonardo Bellyard. But those two people were gone now. Cecelia was dead, and, after seeing the absolute chaos the Cure had caused, Bellyard had retired early and moved to Tokyo with a good friend of his. The man had been serious about his resignation. He hadn't returned any phone calls and was in no way handing the formula of the Cure over to the Labs again, especially by technological means.

Cecelia, however, had planned ahead. She had suspected from an early stage that the Cure would not work permanently, and thus, had began to concoct a new cure, one that would be permanent. But because she knew of Bellyard's growing skittishness of the original cure, she had kept her study and notes to herself. Cecelia had kept her discoveries in a safe though and had given the code to no one…no one but Brenda.

And that was why, Morris thought, Brenda had been so patient. Months after her teacher's death, Brenda had been able to come up with the other half of the formula. But the question was:

_Was the other half the __**right **__other half?_

Morris eyed his fellow doctor and friend. She had a skeptical look in her hazel eyes, but as soon as she opened her mouth, he knew, it held a glint of hope.

"_Brenda, don't you dare. We haven't even tested it yet!"_ Morris thought. His head whipped around to look at her, to stare her down. His face was most definitely full of doubt.

"_He doesn't think I can do it. But I will. For Cecelia."_ Brenda thought. She ignored the glare Morris was giving her and cleared her throat before reopening her mouth and looking at Pahterson, "I believe we might have a solution."

_**Westchester, New York  
Xavier's Institute for the Gifted  
11:00 a.m.**_

There was a soft knock on Illyana's door. She turned around from her position in front of the mirror as a list of names of who it could be ran through her mind.

"Who is it?!" she yelled, her flamboyant accent running through her question. Padded footsteps glazed the floor as she opened the door before whoever was on the other side could answer.

"Uh…me." was the unsure, short reply.

A bright smile washed over her face when Illyana realized who was now standing in her doorway, the person's boyish smirk giving her chills.

Bobby Drake.

It had only been a day and Illyana had thought she might melt when she caught even a glance of him. He had been one of the first residents of the mansion she had met. He, her brother, and two girls named Kitty and Jubilee, had picked her up from the airport late yesterday night.

Her brother was the first she had paid attention to. Standing at a hulking 6'3, with broad shoulders and a soothing air to his voice, Peter Rasputin looked nearly nothing like his little sister. Peter had inherited their father's chocolaty brown hair and hazel eyes. Illyana had been given their mother's naturally beautifully curled, light blonde hair and their great grandmother's gray eyes. Her light pink lips and skin as flawless as porcelain just added to the Russian beauty.

Peter had hugged her too. She had called it an "Envelope hug" because that's exactly what Peter did with her and many other people as well…he enveloped them. The oldest Rasputin child was 6 inches taller than her and she was positive she wasn't the only one. But nevertheless, it felt good to feel her older brother's warmth. It was normal, she thought, seeing as she hadn't seen him in person for years.

The next person Illyana had observed was Kitty. Kitty was 2 inches shorter than her at the most and had hair that was a shade lighter than Peter's that was pulled back into a ponytail when she had first met her. The brunette had been instantly friendly as soon as she had gotten off the plane, smiling and waving and complementing her on her hair. And it was that act of kindness that had made her immediately comfortable around Kitty after that. They had giggled about random things Jubilee had said all the way back to the mansion.

Then there was Jubilee. The Asian girl had worn a bright yellow sweater and faded jeans with yellow _leather_ boots. Illyana had never heard of yellow leather and had never met someone who was brave enough to attempt to pull off such a feat. But, strangely, it had looked good on Jubilee. That alone had earned Illyana's respect. Jubilee was friendly and outgoing, but was still her real self all at the same time. And that spoke something big…and made the life of the party too. In the car on their way back to the school, Jubilee had done nothing but told joke after joke, spat wisecrack after wisecrack. And it had sent everyone in the car stumbling onto the mansion's porch with hands that clutched firmly at their aching ribcages. Jubilee gave laughter a plenty.

And last, but certainly not least, there was Bobby. Bobby Drake.

At first, he had seemed repressed, but Jubilee had convinced her it was just the sleepiness from his 2-hour drive kicking in and had eagerly jabbed at his sides. Bobby was awake then. He had shrieked so high it was among the borderline of something girly. That had only sent Kitty sprawling to the ground in hysterical laughter at the airport. Nearby adults had scowled at the hyper teenagers and one guy had even shouted at them to keep it down, but no one had cared. They all just continued with their antics. And that was something Illyana was happy about. She hadn't liked Russia very much. After Peter had left, there was no one to play around with on the farm, and, on top of that, her parents had continued to shield her from the world outside of their farm after a boy named Mikey was lynched by the townspeople for his mutation causing deaths. The way Illyana saw it, it really wasn't his fault. The boy was barely 10 years old. And he didn't have the chance she and Peter had, the chance to control his mutation.

Bobby had been kind enough, but it wasn't until late last night that she had become relaxed around him. He had offered to help her unpack even though he was obviously tired. So was everyone else. And they had departed off to their own rooms.

It had been quiet, seeing as no one was awake. The both of them refrained from talking as they folded multiple tank tops and shorts. Then Bobby had paused and his face had turned a deep shade of red.

Illyana had glanced to the side. Bobby, stunned and exhausted, had done nothing but simply stared at her favorite hot pink, lacy bra in a "What now?" kind of way.

She had snatched the rest of the suitcase away from him and told him that was all she needed helping with. He had chuckled then and she smacked his shoulder and demanded his absence after saying thank-you. And before she had closed the door, they shared a smile. It was effortless and uncomplicated, but something about the way he smiled made her melt…and she wasn't sure if it was good or bad.

"We missed breakfast," Bobby said, leaning against the door hinge, "Kitty and I are stopping by Burger-King to get some cinna-minis…wanna come?"

Illyana couldn't stop her smile. "Sure"

"Great. Meet ya in ten."

"Okay then.

"Okay."

There was a silence and a pause between them, but neither of them were awkward.

"Aren't you gonna leave?" Illyana asked, folding her arms, her dark blue, silk nightie brushed against her knees with her movement.

"Aren't you gonna slam the door in my face?" Bobby teased with a challenging stare.

Illyana wasted no time. Raising one perfectly tweezed eyebrow, she scoffed jokingly and shut the door in his face that left a large smack ringing throughout the hallway.

"Loser!" she shouted from the other side of the door.

"Loser!" Bobby mimicked in a high-pitched squeal, then ran off before she could reopen the door, leaving a very content Illyana Rasputin on the other side of the door.

But was that good…or bad?

_**New York, New York  
Time Square**_

"_Mommy! Mommy! Pleeeasseee! I'll be good! I'll be really really good!"_

"_Nina! I told you 'no'!"_

"_I __**want **__a __**lollipop!**__"the little girl whined. Her black hair set nicely into two pigtails bounced lively as she stomped her tiny foot on the ground._

"_You aren't getting a lollipop. Now stand still!" the older woman commanded, grabbing onto the girl's wrist even tighter."_

"_But I want a __**LOLLIPOP!**__"Nina screamed, pointing to the candy vendor across the street where there was a small line of customers._

"_Stop it!" her mother yelled, stooping down to control her child as people on the sidewalk stared at the scene the two were making._

"_Lemme go! Stop!" the little girl tried to wiggle from her mom's grasp, but to no avail._

_The mother ignored the two hotdogs the man behind the vendor was impatiently trying to give to her, despite her full hands._

_The woman leaned over to whisper in the girl's ear. "If you're good, Nina, I'll let you go. Hm?"_

_The small child was hesitant for a moment before wrenching her wrist away and folding her arms across her chest. "Fwine. But I won't like it."_

"_You don't have to like it" her mother answered with a stern glare before turning around to grab the hotdogs and pay while her daughter gave a longing glance at the candy vendor._

_Then, a decision was made._

_Nina looked at her mom one more time before cutting through the crowd to get across the street. Spotting her daughter's rapidly moving figure out of the corner of her eye, her mom dropped the hotdogs and attempted to run after her. _

_Then, Nina stopped. Nina stopped in the middle of the road, and turned around to see if her mother was watching her._

_And then everything went into slow motion. The truck's horn was slow. Nina's reaction was slow. Her mom's screaming was slow. And so was the horrifying vision of a little girl crushed against the New York Time Square's pavement._

Layla blinked her eyes. The path to casualty was a short one.

She didn't know who Nina was. But she knew she was going to die. And she knew that her path to casualty, like all the others, would be short.

Authors Note: Wheee! I love Layla, don't you?


End file.
